


Force of Habit

by triste



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-27
Updated: 2011-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion has always been honest, almost painfully so. He doesn’t lie. He can’t. He’s too transparent. Maybe that’s why Nezumi sees right through him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Force of Habit

Title: Force of Habit  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: No. 6  
Pairing: Nezumi/Shion  
Rating: PG  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

The first time Shion tries to organise the mountain of books in the underground room, it’s to free up floor space. His second attempt is to bring some sort of order to the chaos. He’s not sure how to properly categorise anything, and it doesn’t help that a lot of the books have absolutely nothing in common with each other. There are plays and poetry, mythology volumes, fairy tales and even old science journals, nearly all of them written by authors he has no knowledge or recollection of.

He sorts them out as best he can, but it’s a slow process. Paper books are much more distracting than electronic ones, and Nezumi is forever telling him to familiarise himself with the classics, if only to improve his vocabulary.

Time passes by without him realising. Shion often finds himself flipping something open at random, only coming to his senses a few hours later and wondering just how he managed to get so absorbed in the story. Sometimes he amuses himself by thinking that he might become a librarian in the future. Instead of being in charge of high tech maintenance robots, he could be in charge of dusty old tomes.

It’s a nice idea, but he knows there’s no chance of it ever actually happening. For starters, there’s no way he can return to No. 6. Besides, nobody collects books anymore. Everything is digitalised, computerised, impersonalised. If it hadn’t been for Nezumi, he would never have known the sensation of holding a real book in his hands. He’d still be living on in ignorance and arrogance, not knowing real hardship or a proper day’s work. Even so, there’s always something new for him to learn, something different to experience.

It’s not that long since he had his first kiss stolen. From what little Shion has read and heard, kissing is supposed to be pleasurable. It makes sense. People wouldn’t do it otherwise. Then why, Shion wonders, didn’t he enjoy it?

He’s fairly sure the main reason is because he had no choice in the matter. Like most other human beings, he doesn’t appreciate being forced into doing something against his will. Kissing just doesn’t feel good unless it’s with someone you’re already attracted to.

He’s still puzzling over it when Nezumi turns up a few moments later, startling him by waving a hand in front of his face.

“Thinking about something?”

Shion’s eyes widen. “How could you tell?”

“Force of habit,” Nezumi says. “When you’re confused or lost in thought, you tug on your hair or twirl it with your fingers. Or aren’t you aware of it?”

Shion shakes his head, feeling warm inside. It’s proof that Nezumi is taking notice of him the same way he’s been taking notice of Nezumi, picking up on all his little quirks and filing them away for future reference.

“Will you kiss me?” he asks suddenly.

Nezumi raises an eyebrow. “That’s a weird question. Did you hit your head?”

He reaches out to run his fingers over Shion’s scalp, all harsh words and gentle caresses as usual, and Shion leans into his touch with a sigh.

“I don’t have a concussion. Honest. Is it really so strange? I just want you to kiss me.”

“The way I kissed that hooker?”

“Not that it matters, but –”

Nezumi interrupts him before he can finish his sentence, mouth closing over Shion’s and hands clamping around Shion’s upper arms so hard that he gasps. Nezumi is strong, surprisingly so, and Shion has no idea why he keeps forgetting this fact. There’s no trace left of Nezumi’s earlier tenderness when he shoves Shion up against the bookcase, but then he’s getting used to being pushed around. He likes it better when Nezumi is being gentle with him, which doesn’t happen nearly often enough in Shion’s opinion, but he has to admit it’s a lot more exciting when Nezumi is being rough.

He can’t really explain it, although he’s starting to understand Nezumi’s frustration with his ineloquence, but the one thing he knows for certain is that he’s not afraid. Nezumi has never given him any reason to feel fear, not even when he showed up that fateful night with his blood dripping onto the balcony. If anything, it’s the opposite. Nezumi inspires his awe, his admiration, his fascination.

It’s not about wanting to study or observe. It’s about wanting to be closer to him.

They’re definitely close now, and Shion is keenly aware of the way the bookcase digs into his back as Nezumi presses him up against it, the way Nezumi’s fingers bite into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, the way Nezumi’s thigh forces itself between his legs. Shion moans. He’s starting to grow light headed, but it’s good, so good, and he wants more, because he’s greedy when it comes to Nezumi. There’s a knot of heat unfurling low in his belly that spreads slowly through the rest of his body, making him feel hot all over.

Is he blushing? He must be. Nezumi will laugh at him for sure when he sees, but Shion doesn’t care, breathless and trembling and hopelessly in love.

It occurs to him too late that he should touch back, to find out what it would feel like to run his hands through Nezumi’s hair, something he’s wanted to do for as long as he can remember, but then Nezumi withdraws and Shion’s legs buckle.

Nezumi catches him before he can fall. “I didn’t think that happened in real life,” he teases, holding Shion upright. “Swooning into someone’s arms, I mean.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Shion says defensively. “I was dizzy.”

Nezumi hasn’t moved away yet and Shion is still unsteady on his feet, so he uses it as an excuse to wind his arms around Nezumi’s waist. His head fits comfortably on Nezumi’s shoulder, and he closes his eyes, breathing in Nezumi’s scent. Nezumi doesn’t hold him back, which is kind of disappointing, but he places his hands lightly over Shion’s hips.

“Well?” he prompts. “How was it?”

Shion doesn’t understand at first, his mind still somewhat hazy, and it takes him a few seconds to figure out what Nezumi means. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, right.” He raises his face to offer Nezumi a dazzling smile. “I liked it.”

“You liked it,” Nezumi repeats.

“Yes.” Shion nods. “I liked it.” And then, just in case Nezumi hasn’t gotten the message yet, he adds brightly, “I liked it very much.”

“Obviously. You wouldn’t look so drunk if you didn’t.”

“Really? I look drunk?” Shion feels kind of drunk. Not that he knows what it’s actually like. He’s never tasted alcohol before. He’s underage, after all. It strikes him as being funny for some reason, so he laughs. Nezumi stares at him like he’s gone crazy, and Shion finds that even funnier.

“Are you having hysterics?” Nezumi asks, shaking him a bit. “Should I throw some water on you?”

“No,” Shion gasps, trying to catch his breath. “Please don’t. I’m just being very happy right now.” Nezumi looks sceptical, like he’s equating ‘being happy’ with ‘cracking up.’ Shion supposes he can’t really blame him. “Will you kiss me again?”

“Will it make you even more peculiar if I say yes?”

“I’m not sure.” Shion has always been honest, almost painfully so. He doesn’t lie. He can’t. He’s too transparent. Maybe that’s why Nezumi sees right through him. “Is it okay if I find out?”

Nezumi sighs in acquiescence. “Just as long as you don’t infect me with your weirdness.”

 

End.


End file.
